Dilemma
by Erestor
Summary: While being chased by a nasty man, Aragorn and Legolas must agree on which direction to go... You know they couldn't ::always:: get along! Revised June '06.


**Dilemma**

**by Erestor**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing pertaining to _The Lord of the Rings_.

* * *

It's amazing the way Aragorn manages to get me into these messes. One would think that mortals, with their shorter life expectancy, would be careful not to die sooner than necessary. One would think that they would try to avoid life endangering situations whenever possible. However, I think that Aragorn tries to get into life endangering situations as frequently as he can, especially when there are other people around him who can share in his misery. 

People like me.

At the moment, we are running through a dilapidated palace, pursued by a sadistic man who wants to capture Aragorn so that he can get revenge on him. I have not asked Aragorn what sort of revenge the man has in mind, but I suspect it won't be pleasant.

Because I'm an Elf, if caught, I'll probably be sold to some evil idiot from Umbar. Sadistic men are so predictable.

Aragorn pauses, glancing around and looking paranoid. He always looks paranoid, a fact that does not surprise me in the least. "Which way?" he asks. "Left or right?"

I see that we have come to a fork in the corridor. We now have two choices, and very little time. I peer down both. "Left," I say.

"Right," says Aragorn, almost at the same time.

At first I think he is agreeing with me, but already he is heading down the passage to the right. I grab him by the shirt. "Aragorn, I think we should take the left."

"Why?" he asks. At times like these, I really want to knock him on the head.

"I'm an Elf," I say. "My Elven instincts tell me that we should go down the left passage."

Aragorn glances at me. "Oh, _now_ is the time to rub in the fact that you have 'Elven instincts' and I don't. Thank you. I appreciate it."

I hate it when he's sarcastic.

"Please," I say, polite and dignified as usual, "we must turn to the left."

"Why?" asked Aragorn. "I'm sure that one is as good as the other."

"Exactly." I smile at the irritating mortal. "Left is better."

"I don't see why you always get to choose!" says Aragorn. I almost expect to see him stomp his foot in irritation. He is really quite foolish. Obviously, I'm the one who should decide which way to go, since I've lived so much longer than him. I've had much more experience.

"You must trust me," I say.

Aragorn crosses his arms across his chest. "I've heard that line _far_ too many times. 'You must trust me. You must trust me'," he says, mimicking my Mirkwood accent. "And what happens when I trust you? We end up half-dead!"

"That's not true!" I shout. Just before I can punch him on the nose, a group of men burst into the room, having caught up with us because Aragorn wanted to stay around and bicker with me instead of listening to my words of wisdom.

I shoot two of the men. Aragorn stabs two of them. The last two run away.

We look down the passageways. "Left still looks better," I say.

"It's too dark," Aragorn snaps. "We'll fall into a pit or something."

I squint down my preferred passage. "It's not dark."

"Maybe not to you!" says Aragorn. "I'm just a lowly mortal. I would probably break my leg."

More sarcasm. I condescend to glare at him.

"Why do you want to go down the right one?" I ask.

"Because it's the right one." Aragorn grins triumphantly.

Just what I needed. A pun. Like that's going to solve our argument.

Five men rush into the room. This time, I only shoot one. Then I stab two more at the same time with my knives. Aragorn decapitates one man, and knocks the other's head against the wall. He drops to the ground unconscious.

We go back to business.

"Why don't we spin a knife?" I suggest. I place my knife on the ground. "We'll go whichever way it points."

Aragorn twirls the knife and we watch it spin. It points to the wall.

"We're wasting time," says Aragorn. He loves stating the obvious.

"_You_ are wasting time," I say. "So let's turn left."

"No," says Aragorn. "Either we go down the right corridor, or I go back the way we came."

"You'll get caught," I say. Not that I really care, at this point.

"So?"

"You're acting stupid," I say kindly. "Let's go my way."

Aragorn frowns. He considers. He stares down the passages, his face contorted with concentration. "I still think right is right," he says after a few minutes.

"I still think left is right," I say. Aragorn looks confused. After thinking about what I just said, I get confused too.

Suddenly the sadistic man himself comes towards us. He is surrounded by more than a score of men. Far too many to fight at once. I shoot a couple anyway. Then I grab Aragorn and drag him down the left passage.

For a few minutes, we charge down the hall. Aragorn is panting, and I can tell that he is annoyed. Suddenly, I see a pit in front of us. I try to stop, but the clumsy mortal crashes into me. We both tumble into it and land with a crunch at the bottom.

"Nice going, Legolas," says Aragorn sarcastically. He sits up and glowers at me.

We hear the men stomping towards the pit. One of them looks down at us and says, "We got them."

Someone else who likes to state the obvious. I glare at him. He just smirks. I sit against the wall, envisioning my happy holiday in Umbar. I do not feel pleased.

"We should have gone my way," says Aragorn. "You were wrong, for once."

"Aragorn," I say calmly, "we'll get out of here easily. How many pits have we escaped?"

Aragorn counts on his fingers. "Six," he says. "One was filled with scorpions."

"Don't worry. We'll get out of this one too," I say encouragingly.

"Well, I still think we should have– "

Aragorn's words are cut off as the sadistic man peers into the pit. "Pity they didn't take the other passage," he mutters to himself, though we can both hear his words. "I wanted to see what the crocodiles would do to them."

Aragorn's mouth drops open. I smile at him.

Elves are always right.

**The End.**


End file.
